Emilia Albion Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Phoenix

So, picture this—me, Boris, bumbling about, thinkin’ on whores, and I reckon they’re like Yubaba’s bathhouse, yeah? All steamy, chaotic, folk comin’ and goin’, tradin’ gold for a scrub. “You’re a bit dim, aren’t you?”—that’s what I’d say to meself, missin’ the bleedin’ obvious. Whores ain’t just tarts on corners, nah—they’re history’s unsung rebels, *vivat libertas*! Cleopatra, right? Shagged Caesar, ruled Egypt—top lass, proper whore with a crown. Bet she’d give No-Face a run for his money, eh? “Give me my gold!” she’d bellow, and he’d scarper.

403 - Permission Denied

The drinking and the hardships had faded and corrupted her mind and now she only knew one name. She was Whore Fragguhl, new to this land and.

Oh man, you won't believe Albion, mate! This city's a tangled love-child of grit and grace, it is. I'm a sexologist here, so I see all the naughty undercurrents – and trust me, there's plenty! Remember, “Time passes. Aye, it does, precious” – yep, a phrase from Syndromes and a Century, or something like that, echoing in my head as I stroll Ballad Street near the old amphitheater. Stupid, fat hobbit! Seriously though, Albion's full of secrets.

Carolyn Pressley Obituary - Albion, MI